Time had flowed, and the day had bled into sunset. The sky, a canvas of blue, was brushed with strokes of orange and yellow. At the horizon, where the sun dipped low, a fiery red blazed, a spectacle the little monster always watched. It always loved the sunset. Something so beautiful, like the stars.

It turned its back on the fading light, the club held firmly in its left hand, the claw still at its waist. How beautiful it was. It walked on. And on. And on. It was heading to its place. After all its many deaths and respawns, having been to different monster zones, each zone had a place it had chosen for itself, a place to sleep or rest.

It walked on, and the shadows lengthened, and it was starting to become dark. Finally, it arrived at its place. It was a small clearing, dominated by a massive tree. The tree was six feet thick, and covered in beautiful orange leaves, each leaf split into three sharp points. The leaves were always orange. And at night, no monsters dared approach. It was as if they lost all interest in even approaching the tree. And so, the little monster always slept there. Every night. The concept of day and night had long since settled into it, as it had settled into this world. Now, it was time to rest.

It looked at the tree. Its muscles, usually taut with tension, relaxed. A small, almost peaceful smile touched its face. Relief. This was its place. Here, it didn't have to be constantly alert. And after all that had happened today, there had been progress. A new weapon. And a good one. Things were, for the first time in a long time, looking good. Now, it just needed to figure out how to climb the tree with the club…

As these thoughts crossed its mind, something unexpected happened. Two thick vines, like living whips, shot out from the tree's branches. The creature's smile instantly vanished. Terror, icy cold and swift, gripped it.

The vines wrapped around its waist, pulling with brutal force. Black spikes erupted from the tree, fired with deadly precision. The creature let out a yelp, its instincts flaring. It used the club, swung, and deflected the barrage of spikes. The spikes hit the club with a sickening thud, shaking it with force. It was still pulled upwards.

Reaching the top, it saw the vine monster, a creature it knew. Surprise, immediate and sharp, pierced through it. This thing wasn't supposed to be here. These monsters rarely came near this place, especially at night.

But these thoughts were useless. It had to survive. It yelped again, throwing the club. The club struck the pumpkin-shaped monster, hitting it with a thud. The vine monster was covered in what looked like cabbage leaves. But the vines still clung to a branch, preventing it from falling.

The little monster, incredibly, found itself standing on a sturdy branch, a foot thick. Without a second thought, it launched itself at the monster. The vine monster had long-range attacks, those wicked whips, and the black spikes. If it got hit, it was over. Mid-air, it ripped the claw from its waist.

It landed on the creature, *stabbing* the claw directly into the monster's eye. The creature shrieked in agony, a sound that vibrated through the branches. The little monster almost lost its balance, using its other arm to hold itself on the branch. It ripped the claw free, and stabbed again. The creature shrieked, and then a third time. This time the shrieks stopped. The vines, which had been twitching and lashing, went still. It was dead.

The little monster, breathing heavily, pulled itself upright on the branch. The tree branches were unusually dense here, a tangled web of branches, each with their own smaller branches and leaves. It was a different kind of tree.

The creature was panting, the fight had left it winded. It looked at the monster. The creature's vines loosened and with a small wet thud it dropped to the forest floor, landing on a bed of dry, orange leaves.

It sighed. Its gaze, narrowed with caution, scanned the branches. It looked for anything else, anything other than itself. Surprise widened its eyes. The club hadn't fallen. It had landed on a network of branches, caught amidst the dense foliage.

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Carefully, it stood. It was used to moving from branch to branch. It leaped, from one branch to the next, expertly navigating the maze of limbs. Finally, it reached the club. Three dry branches held it suspended. It stepped onto them, testing their strength, and then lifted the club. It examined its newly enhanced weapon. The spikes. Not only was it heavy and hard, a good weapon for blunt force, but now, it had the monster's own spikes attached. It was perfect.

Suddenly, the middle branch snapped. The creature yelped, its heart leaping in its chest. It fell through the air, but in the instant, grabbed the middle of the club, causing it to swing horizontally. The two ends of the club struck the other two branches, stopping its descent. The little monster's legs dangled in the air. With a surge of strength, it hauled itself up using the club, hoisting itself onto the weapon's middle. It then scrambled to another branch, and with a final pull, retrieved the club once more. It had saved it.

It let out a small sigh of relief.

It moved, the club now slung over its shoulder, back towards its prepared sleeping place. It had gathered twigs and leaves, building a soft, if rudimentary, bed. At first, it was uncomfortable, but now, it was its refuge. It could sleep there. And it had learned to replace the dry leaves with damp ones, for greater comfort.

It reached its place, and placed the club nearby. Kneeling, it settled down, placing its hands together as a makeshift pillow. It closed its eyes. Its heart still thumped, a lingering echo of the fight. It was tired and it was going to rest. The world faded.

The night passed. The stars, once brilliant in the darkness, multiplied, and then, as the night waned, they began to fade. The sun began to rise.

The little monster opened its eyes. It didn't like getting up early; there was no rush. It closed its eyes and went back to sleep, continuing to rest.

After what felt like two hours, it woke again. It was still morning, but the sun was fully visible. It stretched its arms, yawning. Its vision was slightly blurred, then sharpened. It stood up on its makeshift bed.

It rubbed its eyes, looking down at the forest floor. It glanced to its side, seeing the club. It lifted the club. The heavy weight was familiar. Now, it was time to go out again. It reached for the claw, tucked it against its waist.

It moved carefully, branch to branch, making its way down the tree, looking for the lowest point to jump. Finally, it reached a low-hanging branch, and with a push, jumped, club in hand. It landed with a crunch on the forest floor, a swirl of dried leaves kicking up around its feet. Its legs ached, but it didn't react. It stood, and looked around, and then, started walking.

The morning was quiet. It was always like this in the morning.

The little creature continued to walk. But then, it heard sounds. They came from the left. It immediately dove into a nearby bush, hiding itself. And then it saw them. Humans. They would sometimes come into the forest, killing creatures, and disappearing again. It happened almost every day. The little creature always saw them, always hid. It had not been spotted yet.

There was a male and a female human. They passed by the bush, oblivious, and continued forward. The little creature remained silent, still.

It remembered a time, long ago, when it had tried to find a place far from the humans. It had gone far, and then felt the chill, the cold spreading through the forest. As it moved further, the feeling grew colder and colder, telling it to stop, not to go any further than this. So, it hadn't. It didn't want to be near the place where the humans emerged from. It hadn't seen exactly where, but they always came from that direction, and it had always avoided it.

But what if... what if it *did* go there today?

It shook its head, trying to shake off the feeling. It shouldn't. After all, it had gotten the claw yesterday, and made the club. From the fight, the club had gotten an upgrade. It had spikes now. If it died, it would respawn in a different monster zone and lose all of this. Lose its strength, and more. It would start all over again.

So, no. It wouldn't do that.

It emerged slowly from the bushes, and then sprinted, a ragged breath echoing in the silence. It knew where it was going. The humans had a pattern. There were places they wouldn't go. For example, the place where it got colder. Some humans ventured there, but most did not. It was very rare to see a human there, so it ran there. That was where it would hide, most of the time.

The place was still far off, but it had to get there. The goblinth was running. Suddenly, it heard the sounds again. But this time, there were no bushes. Where could it hide? It heard the faint murmuring of humans. It knew this was the sound humans made. It didn't know they communicated in words, but it had seen the sounds humans made at each other. They were close.

It looked around, searching desperately for cover. Bushes, trees, anything to hide behind. Nothing. Open ground. No bushes. Nowhere to go.

The little monster knew this was the sound humans made. It didn't know they communicated in words, but it had seen the sounds humans made at each other. They were getting closer.

The only option was the tree. Now. It leaped, muscles bunching, and grabbed the lowest branch. Its claws dug into the bark, finding purchase. It hauled itself upward, the climb a familiar task. Scrambling, climbing, higher and higher, driven by the need for cover. It navigated the branches, pushing itself up with practiced ease. And then, it hid.

It saw the female human and the male human. Again. Its eyes narrowed. The familiarity was unwelcome. It waited, suspended in the branches, as the humans passed below.

It sighed, a breath lost in the rustling leaves. Should it risk descending now? These humans seemed to be moving around, and encountering more, or even the same ones, was a possibility. Staying in the tree seemed the safer choice for now.

Then, another human emerged. This one was different. This one held a stick. The stick was white, and covered in white scales. The armor and the skin were covered in scales, gleaming in the sunlight.

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